


Too Close to Kill

by Peppercheeni



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicide Pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peppercheeni/pseuds/Peppercheeni
Summary: It wasn’t his first suicide mission, but he expected it would be his last.





	Too Close to Kill

“How long?” Young murmured, one knee drawn against his chest. His firearm hung loosely from his fingers, as heavy and useless as he currently felt.

 

“Can’t be more than a few minutes now.” Although Rush sat just beside him, his response was barely audible.

 

Young simply nodded, solemn understanding materializing in his gut. They were silent.

 

There was something particularly disillusioning about facing impending doom on a regular basis. Somehow, it dulled the blow, now that death really was imminent.

 

“It’s too bad,” Young commented, leaning back against one of the many metal containers that cluttered the storage area. Perhaps he’d spoken louder than intended, because he felt Rush give a brief start.

 

“What?” The scientist glanced at him, tearing his gaze from the kino panel in his hands for the first time in hours.

 

“It’s too bad,” Young repeated, “that they want us alive.” He offered a humorless chuckle, eying his gun, “I would have much preferred to go out fighting.”

 

When Rush said nothing and, instead turned his attention back to the panel, Young gingerly added, “You sure that option’s off the table?”

 

Rush’s brief, condemning gaze was the only answer he received.

 

 

_The most frustrating part of all this was how well they’d been doing recently. Amazingly enough, Eli’s plan had been an all-around success. Not only had they made it to a galaxy free of drones, but they’d also awoken from stasis right on schedule, with Eli still intact. Young couldn’t have been more proud if he had been the boy’s father. But then, in some ways, he already was._

 

_It had been inevitable that their luck would sour eventually, as it always did. However, somehow, Young never imagined it would happen this way._

 

 

“They’ve found us,” Rush breathed, his facade of calm momentarily cracking. His eyes were glued to the small screen, which housed a single lanky figure, it's glowing blue skin and skeletal fingers only slightly less dreadful than in person. Several more crowded into the frame, and Rush instinctively pressed against Young’s arm, as if he could distance himself from the device he still gripped so tightly. He was trembling.

 

 

_Chloe was the first one to be loaded into the shuttle, when it became obvious that they were not going to win this battle against the Nakai. Rush had insisted upon it. Despite her protests, the relief in her eyes was not something Young would soon forget. They no longer had the power to dial the stargate—and, even so, the only planet in range was locked out—so, they’d loaded up their only shuttle with as many civilians as it could take. Just as he had once before, Young insured that TJ boarded it._

 

_He knew she would have argued had she the time, but, regardless of her personal circumstances, she was still the only medic they had._

 

_Anyone who did not board the shuttle—which included more military personnel—was left to fend for himself or herself on Destiny. Given that the Nakai had wasted no time infiltrating the ship, their chances of survival were all but nonexistent. The least they could do, as far as Young was concerned, was hold off the Nakai long enough to give those on the shuttle a fighting chance. It wasn’t his first suicide mission, but he expected it would be his last._

 

 

“If we’re going to do this,” Rush muttered, choking down his panic, “we have to do it soon.” Young knew he was right. Even with all they had braced against it, the door wouldn’t hold for long, not now that they’d been discovered.

 

“Yeah,” he sucked in a breath, “okay.”

 

Rush slowly crawled forward, purposely putting little to no pressure on his freshly injured leg, as he repositioned himself. Now, he sat directly across from Young, as opposed to beside him, but they were still close enough for their boots to touch. They certainly didn’t have much space, and they had even less time.

 

“Ready when you are, Colonel.”

 

 

_In the end, they’d given is all they had. It hadn’t been enough, but no one could accuse them of not trying._

 

_Rush had even taken to destroying parts of the ship as a last resort, but the Nakai were relentless. The remaining passengers eventually scattered and were pursued mercilessly. There was no real way to know what had become of everyone, but Rush seemed to think death was a better fate than the alternative._

 

 

Young raised his firearm, and Rush mirrored him accordingly. Targets locked, eyes locked, and yet, there was absolutely nothing steady about either of them.

 

 

 _A suicide pact, Young had not even considered the notion. It_ **_had_ ** _been Rush’s suggestion, after all, and Young was hardly one to entertain his methods._

 

_“I never took you for such a romantic, Nick,” Young teased, as he lugged another crate forward to barricade the door._

 

 _It earned him an agitated scowl from Rush. “Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea,_ **_Commander_ ** _?” He spat venomously._

 

_“Better than staring down the barrel of my own gun, yeah.” At this point, Young had taken a seat beside Rush, as all remaining cargo was too heavy for him to move alone. “We wait them out here and, in the meantime, use the kino to see if there are any more survivors.”_

 

_“And when the inevitable happens, and they break down the door?” Rush asked quietly._

 

_“Then we fight like hell and bring as many of the bastards down with us as we can,” Young offered in response._

 

_“That’s a terrible plan, especially considering I can’t stand.”_

 

_“But you can shoot.”_

 

_Rush scoffed then, as if he were trapped in a cargo hold with the most incompetent person that ever lived. Actually, that probably wasn’t so far from the truth. “Obviously. I still like my plan better.”_

 

_“Of course you do,” Young chuckled, “I think you just want to shoot me.”_

 

_The corner of Rush’s mouth quirked up in a faint smile._

 

 

“One,” Young started off the count with a firmness that was no more than skin deep.

 

“Two,” Rush echoed with surprising strength, his finger braced on the trigger of his handgun.

 

Before them, the stacked crates shook, indicating that the Nakai were in the process of breaking through. In just another couple minutes, if that, the aliens would be upon them.

 

“Three.”

 

 

_The kino patrol had proven even less fruitful than Young had anticipated. Not only had they failed to locate any survivors, they could not as much as locate a body, which was far worse a sentiment. The Nakai, in turn, were everywhere, swarming Destiny like flies over a rotting corpse._

 

_“Still think we can fight our way out of this one, Colonel?” Rush’s features matched the mocking nature of his tone._

 

_“I never said that. I never expected to make it out of here alive.”_

 

_“Oh and you will surely die, I’ve no doubt about that. You’re too much of an inconvenience for them to keep alive for any extended period of time.” Rush snapped bitterly, letting on that there was more going on in his head than he had originally shared. But then, that was nothing new. “Unless, of course, they decide not to kill you either, in which case, you are going to wish you were dead.”_

 

_Young furrowed his brow, “What are you getting at?”_

 

_“I’m of no use to them dead.”_

 

_“Wait, so, you think because they kidnapped you once, they’re going to do it again? Even now that they have Destiny?”_

 

_“Oh, absolutely.” Rush averted his eyes, expression grim. “You see, the moment they find us—and they will find us—I know what is to become of me. And, perhaps you’ll be able to annoy them into killing you, Everett, but, if I were you, I would not take the gamble.” The scientist sighed, slumping down in resignation. “Better to die on your own accord.”_

 

_Young was quiet for a while after that, mulling over the few options they had._

 

_“If you’re weighing this on honor, Everett—” Rush started, but Young cut him off._

 

_“No, I get it,” he gave the other man the weariest of smiles, “living as some alien’s lab rat is not exactly an honorable alternative.”_

 

_Rush looked up, outwardly surprised, “As you…considering my proposal?”_

 

_“Oh, I’m in,” he replied, “but only because I know you’re going to do it anyway.”_

 

_“Don’t I always?”_

 

 

“Stop.” The word left Young’s lips before he even realized he’d opened his mouth at all.

 

“Wh-What?!” Rush choked, snapping his head to the door automatically. He still held his gun up and at the ready, his finger on the trigger.

 

Their situation had not changed.

 

“You hesitated.”

 

“I fucking did **_not_**! **_You_** hesitated!”

 

In truth, they’d both hesitated—just for a second, just long enough for it to matter. Rarely did either of them hesitate in the face of life or death decisions. What a time to start.

 

“Put it down, Nick, “ Young instructed mildly, surprised by how calm his voice sounded in his own ears, “put the gun down.” He lowered his own weapon, half hoping Rush would follow suite.

 

“Are you fucking **_crazy_ **?!” Rush’s gaze rapidly shifted from Young, to the door, and back again. He was panicking; it was a wonder he hadn’t fired the gun accidentally already.

 

“Rush…”

 

“No, fuck you! You don’t think I can do it!” He jerked the gun in indication, his hands visibly trembling. “I…I’m n-not going back to that ship!”

 

It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d tried to reason with someone who’d pulled a gun on him. And, it wasn’t as if it would have mattered anyway, had Rush shot him. That had been the plan, after all. He didn’t have anything to lose.

 

Young simply extended his arm, hand palm up, fingers spread as openly as possible. “Come here,” he said quietly, presenting it as more of a request than anything, “I’ll take care of it.”

 

It surprised him beyond words when Rush began to lower his gun, and even more so when the man reached forward to grab Young’s wrist. But then, there were pressed for time, and the scientist was a practical man. Mostly.

 

Young pulled Rush forward with little difficulty, being as mindful of his injured leg as was possible. They were close now, so close that Young could feel the warmth of Rush’s breath on his neck, as the other man ducked his head down in…shame? Resignation? Relief? It didn’t really matter.

 

He could feel every quiver, hear every quiet sigh, and he was exceedingly aware of the way Rush’s frame rested more heavily against him on the left, to keep from putting too much pressure on his right knee.

 

With some unease, Young considered that the latter was also true—that Rush was just as aware of all the subtle protests Young’s body exerted in opposition to their ultimate decision.

 

It also occurred to him that he was going about this the wrong way. It was much too intimate, much too vulnerable, and lacked any of the malice he had felt the last time he’d grabbed Rush with the intention of ending him.

 

They were much too close to kill. But Young doubted he’d live to regret it anyway. In fact, he was counting on the fact that he wouldn’t.

 

“Close your eyes.” He said it for no other reason than sentiment. Rush had his face nestled far too deeply for him to check anyway.

 

Young pressed the barrel of the gun to the scientist’s temple, crooking his neck enough to keep the image out of even the corner of his eye. He pretended that the motion justified firing a weapon so dangerously close to his own face, whilst pretending that his actions needed justification at all. He felt Rush shiver as the cool metal made contact with his skin, and that only managed to make Young feel further unnerved.

 

“H-Hey,” Rush’s voice was breathy and muffled, “you…you did wh-what you could.”

 

The words brought more reassurance than they normally would have, not because they held any sort of truth, but rather, because of who had spoken them. All Rush seemed to do was reprimand him; knowing he had used what remained of his time to pay Young a sort of compliment was strangely touching.

 

Young gave a throaty laugh, well aware of the commotion going on across the way. How much time did they actually have now? How much time had actually passed? He’d no idea. “You’re not allowed to start being nice to me, Nick, not now.”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” came the hushed response, “I was only being honest.”

 

“Hell of a time to change your habits.”

 

“You _don’t_ get to accuse me of hesitating, and then do the same thing yourself.” Rush’s voice rose slightly above a whisper. “Quit stalling. Or are you still the wrong man for the job?”

 

“…You’re a lot of work, you know that?”

 

“Sounds like I’ve given you plenty of incentive.”

 

He pulled the trigger, a gush of air escaping his parted lips. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed his own eyes until he felt the sudden weight on his chest.

 

For a few seconds, Young just sat there, breathing erratic, heavy. His ears were ringing just enough to cancel out the ruckus going on around them…no, around him. Just him.

 

Young shook his head a few times, trying to get his thoughts in order, trying to—no. There was no time to recover; it would only make things more difficult.

 

Chest heaving, he lifted the gun to his own head and braced his finger against the trigger.

 

-

 

He didn’t know where he was. He was disoriented, and he didn’t know where he was. His breathing was ragged in his own ears and his throat felt raw, as if he’d been screaming.

 

 **_Had_ ** he been screaming?

 

Distantly, Young became aware of a presence beside him. He froze, instinctively reaching for his gun…except, he didn’t even know where **_he_ ** was, much less his gun.

 

Whoever was next to him delivered what was supposed to be a kick to his thigh, though it felt more like a half-hearted nudge. Regardless, it was enough to make him jump in his current state of confusion.

 

“I’m tryin’ to fuckin’ sleep, jackass.”

 

Young glanced down to find Rush nestled at his side, his expression disgruntled and irritated as ever, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed.

 

Young let out a shaky breath and, before he could stop himself, he leaned down to take hold of Rush’s compact figure. He looked him over with poorly-masked franticness, checking for wounds, blood, anything…

 

Naturally, this did nothing for Rush’s mood, and the scientist yanked away from Young’s grip the very moment he gained composure. He then proceeded to deliver a _real_ kick to the other man’s leg.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Everett,” he hissed, sitting up, “it’s three in the morning! What the _hell_?!”

 

By this point, Young was beginning to wrap his head around what was going on. He’d had a nightmare—an awful, bloodcurdling nightmare. It had not been the first, and he doubted it would be the last. They were not under attack, there were no aliens… Hell, he wasn’t even fully dressed. The only active threat he need be worried about currently was an extremely irritated and sleep-deprived Nicholas Rush. And, as unpleasant as that was to deal with, Young would gladly take Rush’s rage over the alternative.

 

However, it seemed he might not have to after all. By the time Young had gotten a handle on reality, Rush had stilled. He watched Young with dark eyes and, even in the dim light of the room, Young could tell his expression had soften.

 

“Were we…under attack? Like before?”

 

Young grimaced, “Something like that.”

 

Rush placed his hand on Young’s forearm. His eyes were as inquisitive as ever.

 

Young shook his head. He did **_not_ ** want to talk about it.

 

“Any chance of going back to sleep?” Rush tried, immediately changing his tactics.

 

“Probably not.”

 

“Will you at least lay back down?”

 

“Give me a minute.”

 

The scientist scoffed, though there was no real substance behind it, “Now you’re just being difficult.”

 

Young didn’t respond. He ran his fingers through his hair, as if to compensate for the fact that his head was still spinning. Even under the blanket of darkness, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Rush. How could he? How do you look at someone moments after…

 

He stared at the wall instead. The silence that filled the room was thick and restless.

 

“I’m afraid I’m not too good at this whole ‘comforting’ thing,” Rush admitted, and Young thought it funny, how his words still seemed to warm the air.

 

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

 

With a quiet sigh, Rush settled against his arm, in a way that was mildly reminiscent of his dream-self. Young had to make a conscious effort not to pull away.

 

“…Is it too late to distract you with mindless sex?”

 

Young couldn’t quite stifle his laugh, “Nothing is ever mindless with you.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be mindless for _me_ , just you,” Rush countered.

 

Young just snorted in response.

 

“So, is that a yes, or a yes _please_?”

 

Finally, Young turned to face him, trying to keep his expression stoic. He was unsure if he succeeded. “Go back to sleep; god knows you need it.”

 

Rush raised his eyebrow in a manner that was as insufferable as it was charming. “Well, I’m awake now, and that’s not something that’s likely to change, _especially_ if you intend to stay upright for the remainder of the evening.”

 

Young grunted at him, amused despite himself. When Rush proceeded to tug him down by his arm, he did not resist.

 

“See, now don’t you like this better?” The scientist settled against Young’s chest, being much more generous with the blankets than usual. Not that he really needed them, what, with this human heater atop him. But the sentiment was nice.

 

“I’d be lying if I said otherwise,” he admitted quietly, a tad more comforted than he should have been, considering they really only had a couple hours before the whole ship was awake. Perhaps he should have opted for the mind-numbing sex after all.

 

“You should listen to me more often,” Rush practically purred, his voice already thick with impending sleep, “I know what I’m talking about.”

 

“You know I trust you as far as I can throw you,” Young teased, opening and shutting his eyes in a preemptive manner.

 

“I’m not very heavy, you could likely throw me quite far, if you wanted.”

 

“Shut your mouth.”

 

“Now, why would I do a thing like that?” Even through his yawn, the grin Rush wore was eminent.

 

Was it odd that Young took a kind of solace in their banter? He figured it might have been. But then, so was actively sleeping with someone you’d previously left for dead. It seemed pointless to think about it now—he was far too tired, and Rush was far too warm to entertain such doubts.

 

Young decided that he wasn’t as far beyond sleep as he’d originally thought. Already, his eyelids were beginning to droop, his breathing even. The nightmare was nothing more than a memory—distant and fading in the face of reality. Young couldn’t be sure, but it seemed Rush had already drifted back to sleep. He was moments away himself.

 

“Uh, Colonel, please come in?” Eli’s voice crackled on the radio, startling them both awake.

 

They shared a collective groan, and Rush pressed harder against Young, as if hoping to keep him in place with his body weight and persistence alone.

 

“Please inform Mister Wallace,” Rush murmured into Young’s shoulder, “to save his grievances for a more reasonable hour.”

 

 _Says the most inconvenient person aboard this ship_ , Young thought, lacking the energy to actually say it out loud. Or to move, for that matter.

 

When Eli didn’t receive an answer, he continued with, “Listen, I know it’s late but, uh, this is kinda important,” almost as if he had heard Rush’s complaint.

 

Despite Rush’s protestant grumbling, Young adjusted his position enough to grab the radio from where it lay on the floor.

 

“I’m here, Eli,” he replied, his voice gruff with lingering exhaustion, “what is it?”

 

“We just…have a bit of a situation.”

 

Young exchanged a wary glance with Rush, who was now sitting up.

 

“What _kind_ of situation?”

 

They both listened intently for the reply and, when none came, it was Young’s turn to prompt.

 

“Eli, what kind of situation are we looking at here?!”

 

The ship shifted suddenly, a single jolt before it fell still once more.

 

The radio crackled back to life. Eli’s voice sounded pained and frightened on the other end, “Sir, I…I think we’ve just been boarded.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to gameoftywinning for helping me make this better.


End file.
